


Unwanted Gifts

by Chichirinoda



Series: Chain Arc [5]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-12
Updated: 2009-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giriko wants something from Mifune, and as far as he's concerned, he's going to get it whether Mifune likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwanted Gifts

Mifune slid the last sword back into its saya and paused for a moment, breathing hard and wiping a sheen of sweat from his face. Though the sun was in the west and starting to sink, the air was still sultry and humid, and removing his shirt for the session hadn't been enough to really cool his heated skin as he practiced.

But at least he had been _able_ to take his shirt off. The last of the welts had faded, as far as he could tell, and the only mark currently on him was the neat circle of marks on his shoulder from when Giriko had bitten him three weeks before. They had scarred, of course, but at least it wouldn't embarrass him for someone to see them.

He pulled his shirt on and buttoned it again, grabbed his gear, and headed for the castle.

Giriko had been gone for a whole week, on some mission for Arachne, and while Mifune was extremely grateful for the break, he couldn't help feeling at loose ends.

He had his nights to himself, and it seemed almost like an extravagant amount of time in which to do nothing. He had been working steadily through his small library of books, reading late into the evening until he had so exhausted himself that he could sleep. Otherwise he tossed and turned, feeling as if he had forgotten to do something very important.

The only thing that really helped besides exhausting himself, was that Giriko had at least left him one specific order. He had given Mifune a rather large dildo, at least as thick around as Giriko's member when erect, and been told to use it on himself at least once a day.

"I'll fuckin' know it if you slack off, so don't forget," Giriko had growled as he handed the thing to him. Mifune had just stood looking at it, dumbstruck and a little repulsed at the sight.

Mifune had obeyed, though he was irritated with himself for it. Still, it only made sense, if Giriko would know if he didn't obey. And it couldn't precisely be called a chore.

As he stepped up to the front doors of the castle he passed a post that had been driven into the ground just in front. The carcass of the third man who'd raped him, looking something like a collapsed balloon after Mosquito had fed on him, was draped over the top of the post as a grim decoration.

Mifune never went anywhere now without his swords, but the display seemed to have worked. The whispers and muttering continued, but no one had accosted him, or so much as spoken to him in three weeks other than Angela, Giriko and - occasionally - Bekko. And in the last week, of those three he had only seen Angela.

He certainly didn't mind that.

In fact, despite the isolation, Mifune was starting to feel more and more like himself, and for the first time in a long time his mind had started to turn towards the idea of escape. Not that he had yet come up with any _ideas_ , but he hadn't even allowed himself to think about it in so long that just worrying over the question was a bit of a relief.

He stepped into his own suite to find Angela sitting in the middle of the floor, playing with a couple of dolls.

"Hello Mifune!" she chirruped happily, beaming up at him.

He set his sword case down and returned the smile. "Hello Angela-sama." As he moved towards the kitchenette, his thoughts on dinner, he absently picked up toys. "Are you hungry?" he asked her, and she bounded to her feet to follow him.

"Yes!" she said. "Can we have ice cream for dinner, Mifune?"

He laughed, the sound almost surprising him. He didn't laugh much anyway, but he'd scarcely done it at all in weeks.

"Not for dinner, but maybe afterwards," he told her.

She pouted, but he knew she wasn't serious, as she couldn't hold the expression for long before she dissolved into giggles and beamed at him once more.

He started preparing their dinner, stepping around her automatically as he puttered, utterly content.

"Mifune..." Angela said presently. "How come Bekko never comes to see me anymore?"

Mifune repressed a surprisingly strong flash of jealousy at this question. "I haven't needed to go anywhere lately, Angela-sama. Do you miss him?"

"I guess..." she said reluctantly. "He's nice, but kinda weird, too. I like you better though, Mifune."

"Well, I'm sure you'll see him again soon, either way," Mifune said with a quiet sigh.

"So you'll go somewhere again?" she asked unhappily. "Soon?"

Mifune felt a pain in his heart. "Does it bother you when I go out?"

"No..."

Mifune turned to look at the little girl. Her hands were clasped together and she was toeing the ground, biting her lip.

Immediately he went to one knee and took her shoulders in his hands, causing her to look up.

"Angela-sama, does it bother you when I go and leave Bekko with you? Does Bekko do anything you don't like?"

Her eyes widened a little at his seriousness. "No, Mifune. He doesn't do anything I don't like. He reads to me and gets me snacks and talks to me sometimes. I like Bekko even if he is weird."

Mifune let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Then why does it bother you when I go? Please tell me, Angela-sama."

She squirmed uncomfortably, then suddenly blurted out, "Do you like that man more than me?"

For a moment, watching Angela's eyes fill with tears, Mifune was taken aback. "What man?"

"Bekko said you went to see a man, that you liked to spend time with him, d-doing things that you wouldn't like to do with me. And you keep going more and more..."

Mifune pulled her tightly into an embrace. His throat had closed and he sounded choked as he spoke. "Angela-sama, please believe me that you are always my first priority. _Always_."

"Really?" she asked tremulously.

"Yes," Mifune said fervently. "I swear, Angela-sama, if I could stay with you every minute, I would. It's only because Giriko demands that I come spend time with him that I go."

She nodded, seeming to be reassured by his words, and as he loosened his grip and drew back, she smiled at him.

"Is Giriko your boyfriend's name, Mifune?" she asked innocently.

Mifune stared at her for a moment, the very idea that Giriko might be called by that term temporarily short-circuiting his brain. He was saved from answering the question by a knock at the door.

Slightly numbed, he gave her a final squeeze and then rose and walked to the door, pulling it open.

Giriko took a step into the apartment the moment the door had opened, grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him close, giving him a deep and thorough kiss right in the doorway, his hand tangling in Mifune's hair and holding his head in place as he plundered his mouth. Mifune was far too surprised to resist, and only let out a muffled sound of protest against Giriko's lips.

Finally he was released and he took a quick step back, panting slightly. "G-Giriko, what are you doing here?"

"Miss me?" Giriko smirked. "I'm here to pick ya up."

Giriko had never come to his apartment before, and Mifune felt as if his privacy, his single safe haven, had been invaded. In fact, Giriko now wandered into the apartment as if he owned the place, toeing one of Angela's toys aside, which Mifune had missed in his sweep. Bekko entered in his wake.

"Hey, Angela is that you?" Giriko asked jovially, catching sight of the girl peeking her head out from the kitchen. Mifune clenched his fists tightly, a protective instinct rising up inside him. He didn't want Giriko so much as looking at Angela, let alone talking to her.

But the girl edged out into full view and looked nervously at Giriko, then over at Mifune, who tried to smile at her encouragingly. "Hello," she said, smiling. She wasn't normally a timid child and Mifune wondered if she was picking up on his own worry.

"Angela-sama," Mifune said quietly. "This is Giriko."

"Oh!" Suddenly she was wreathed in smiles. "Mifune's boyfriend! Mifune likes going to see you very much, but he says that I'm his first priority."

At the first sight of Giriko's slightly stunned expression, Mifune had to turn away slightly to repress a laugh, despite the way the term 'boyfriend' still twisted his stomach into knots.

Giriko laughed aloud. "Yeah well, I knew all that, kid. But I'm gonna be takin' him away from you again tonight. You okay with that?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh." But she hesitated, then added. "But you have to let him come home in the morning. I like Bekko, but not _that_ much."

The weapon snorted again with laughter. "Actually I won't be bringin' Mifune back for a coupla days this time. But I promise he'll be back after the weekend. He and I have got somethin' important to go do."

"What?" Mifune asked quickly. The look Giriko shot him was carefully hidden from the child, and it was both quelling and stern. He felt his own throat close and he reddened slightly. "Ah...a mission, I expect?" he asked in a slightly strained voice.

"Somethin' like that," Giriko said brightly, then turned back to the girl. "So is that okay? You've had him all to yourself for a whole week."

Mifune hated that Giriko knew how to talk to children. He wouldn't have expected it, except now he realized that he _should_ have. Giriko had been a father, after all - god knew how many times. Of course he was used to children.

Angela hesitated, squirming. "I guess since it's important," she said sulkily.

Mifune crossed the room to her and knelt down in front of her once more. "If I get a chance, I'll bring you a present back," he said, and she immediately brightened slightly.

"You promise?" she asked.

"I can't promise to bring you anything," Mifune said immediately. He had no idea if Giriko planned to actually take him out of the castle, after all. His heart told him that this was just an excuse to keep him locked up in his suite for a couple of days. "But I promise to try."

She nodded solemnly, then threw her arms around his neck in a hug.

He closed his eyes and hugged her back, perhaps a bit too tightly. "I'll be back as soon as I may," he murmured, trying to keep his feeling of dread out of his tone. He had had a whole week of freedom, and not only should he have been preparing himself for Giriko's return, but he should have expected that Giriko would do something spectacular to reassert his ownership when he _did_ come back.

"Okay, Mifune," she said, giving him a squeeze and then beginning to squirm impatiently. He released her and stood up, glancing at Bekko.

"I leave her in your hands," he said, then moved towards Giriko, who was already heading for the door.

"I'll take good care of her," Bekko said and then the door shut behind them and he was in the hall with Giriko, alone.

Giriko looked him over. "Miss me?" he asked again, his smirk widening.

"No, sir," Mifune said, a tiny bit sullenly. Giriko scowled, though what other answer he might have expected Mifune couldn't imagine.

The chain snaked out from his throat, as Mifune expected it would, and Giriko caught it and wound it around his wrist again. "Yeah, well, you'll remember soon enough," he said. "Anyway, get your ass movin'. The taxi is waiting for us."

At the sharp tug to his neck, Mifune trotted to follow, startled. "Taxi? We really are leaving?"

"Yup," Giriko said smugly.

"But...but shouldn't I bring anything?" Mifune asked, at a total loss. If they were going on a mission, he only had a single sword. And he didn't have so much as a change of clothes with him.

"You won't need luggage," Giriko said, his tone growing malicious. "I doubt you'll be wearin' clothes all that much, anyway, and I brought everythin' you'll be needin'."

By which Mifune expected he meant an assortment of sex toys and torture implements. His face reddened and he moved on after Giriko without further comment until they stepped back outside and he saw that indeed a taxi was idling in front, the driver - he would be one of Arachne's people, though he wasn't masked - standing beside it with arms folded.

The driver's eyes widened faintly and fell on the chain as Giriko led Mifune up to him, which only made Mifune's blush deepen, but the man made no comment and quickly hopped into the vehicle again. Mifune and Giriko slid into the back seat and the taxi pulled away from Baba Yaga's castle, bumping along the rough road through the jungle, up the winding, switchback road that led up out of the gorge, and back towards the nearest city.

"C'mere," Giriko said when they were under way, catching Mifune by the shoulder and drawing him closer. Mifune leaned against him with his back against Giriko's chest, and Giriko draped his arms around him loosely. "Mmm," Giriko purred, all but humming into Mifune's hair. "I fuckin' missed ya."

"Sorry you didn't have anyone to torture while you were away," Mifune said resentfully, low enough that the driver wouldn't be able to hear him.

Giriko thumped him hard on the shoulder. "None of your lip," he growled. "Fuck, you'd think I was away for a month, the way you've backslid. Did ya even do what I told ya to do while I was gone?"

Mifune's shoulder throbbed, but he didn't reach for it to soothe the pain, leaving his hands clenched tightly in his own lap. "I did it," he said quietly.

"Well that's somethin', at least," Giriko said. "Would be worried I'd really hurt ya otherwise."

"Why do you pretend to be worried you'll hurt me at all?" Mifune couldn't help asking. He was feeling reckless and upset, angry that he was being pulled away from Angela for a whole weekend without warning, and resentful that Giriko was back in his life after the reprieve.

"Shut the fuck up." Giriko replied, his voice rising slightly. "There's hurt and _hurt_ , an' you know it. I ain't interested in fucking you up so much I'd have to train another slave. Now any more of this shit and you're gonna regret it. We're goin' on a little vacation, and I'm gonna enjoy it, damnit. Whether or not you enjoy it too depends on you."

Mifune swallowed and fell silent, wondering now what had possessed him to say something so foolish. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," he said quietly.

"That's better," Giriko growled, letting his fingers play possessively over Mifune's chest. They passed the rest of the trip to the airport in silence.

* * *

Giriko turned out to have a surprising amount of luggage for a single weekend for two men during which Mifune apparently wouldn't need clothes - two large suitcases, one of which clanked suspiciously as Mifune lugged it into the hotel room. He tried not to think of what it might contain. Definitely not clothes.

The room wasn't big, but then again, this was Europe. Giriko dumped the suitcase he was carrying on the single bed and moved to the window, tugging back the curtain to reveal a nice view of the Seine, with Notre Dame on its island in the middle, just downriver from their hotel.

Mifune had never been to Paris before, and he moved to the window as well, looking out at the busy street that ran past their hotel, at the glittering water, at the cathedral that rose upwards just beyond.

The flight had been...tolerable. Giriko had spent most of it asleep, his hand chained to Mifune's wrist as if he feared he'd sneak off and find a parachute. Mifune had been both irritated at it, and relieved that at least Giriko hadn't paraded him through the airport like a dog on a leash. Their clasped hands had attracted notice, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation he would have felt.

"What do ya think?" Giriko asked in a self-satisfied tone, glancing at him sidelong.

"It's a nice view," Mifune said, not looking at him. "Am I going to see any of it close-up?"

What was the point of coming to Paris at all? Giriko seemed to have made it clear that he was going to spend most of the time screwing him, anyway. Would he even leave the room?

Giriko laughed. "Guess that depends on you," he said. "I was thinkin' if you're real good tonight, you can do whatever you want tomorrow. And in return, I get to do whatever _I_ want on Sunday, and you don't complain. And then we go home Monday. How's that sound?"

It sounded damned suspicious, that's how it sounded.

Mifune looked at Giriko with narrowed eyes. He had some kind of plan for Sunday, that had to be it. Why bother making a deal with him? Angela was thousands of miles away, held hostage to his good behaviour, and Mifune wouldn't disobey Giriko's orders.

"All right, sir," he said reluctantly. "That... _sounds_ fair." He put a faint emphasis on the word 'sounds', making the phrase doubtful, and Giriko smirked.

"It's fuckin' fair," he declared. "Sure it is. But you gotta earn it tonight, too. No more of that crap you were givin' me before."

Mifune sighed faintly and looked out the window again. "Yes, sir."

"Good, then take off your clothes and get on the bed. I want ya waitin' for me when I get back," Giriko ordered, then headed for the door.

Mifune waited until he was gone, gazing out at the city through the window. Then he drew the curtains closed again and pulled his clothes off. He didn't know how long Giriko would be gone, so he undressed quickly and crawled onto the bed within seconds, moving the suitcase onto the floor next to the other one.

Without thinking about it, he grabbed into the headboard and prostrated himself. Giriko had not once fucked him while looking at his face, and the position had become comfortable and expected, even if it did put strain on his shoulders.

He needn't have worried. Giriko was gone for at least fifteen minutes, but Mifune held his position as he waited, knowing that if he straightened or moved, that would be the moment Giriko would choose to return.

The door creaked a little as it opened and he turned his head slightly to watch him enter, feeling exposed by the fact that he was fully visible from the hallway if someone was passing. Giriko was carrying a covered tray and he kicked the door closed with one booted foot. Mifune saw that he smiled toothily upon seeing him.

"Oh yeah, that's what I like to see," he said smugly, sitting down on the bed and setting the tray down next to him. He ran a possessive hand from Mifune's shoulder to his thigh. "You're so good, Mifune, when ya want to be. You waited like this all this time, without being tied up or anythin'."

Mifune felt himself reddening. Well what the hell had Giriko expected?

He made it sound like Mifune wanted this, that he had taken the position because he was eager to be tortured and raped.

"But this ain't the way I want ya this time," Giriko went on, wholly oblivious to the swirling emotions inside Mifune's chest. "I shoulda been more specific, I guess. Lie down on your back."

On his back? Mifune straightened slowly, giving Giriko a quizzical look as he turned over and stretched out on his back, wondering what Giriko planned. Certainly he didn't intend to spank or lash him, which was a bit of a surprise.

"Don't worry, I've got the stuff with me," Giriko said, as if he'd read his mind, smirking. "You'll get your chance to feel a bit of pain. I bet you've missed that, too."

Mifune glared at him. "I did not, sir," he said stiffly, though he could feel a stirring between his legs at the memory of the last time Giriko had beaten him with the cat o' nine-tails. While the crop could still get quite painful and was still used solely for punishment, Giriko had managed to get him almost to orgasm merely with the cat and a bit of touching - without using the vibrator at all.

"Sure ya didn't," Giriko smirked, sliding a hand over Mifune's hip and brushing light fingers against his member. Mifune shivered and averted his gaze, feeling himself harden a bit more.

"Anyway, we ain't gonna do that right now," Giriko went on, a little more briskly. "Grab onto the headboard." Mifune reached up and curled his fingers around the wrought iron headboard, feeling the bracelets shift and bind him to it securely, wrists almost touching.

Mifune was getting more aroused by the second. _Damnit, what has he done to me?_ he wondered angrily, not for the first time. Giriko's eyes travelled over him, and suddenly Mifune felt horribly exposed. With his back to Giriko, he was vulnerable, but he was equally vulnerable now - and felt even moreso. He could see the covetous, lust-filled look in the man's eyes.

After looking him over for a few beats, obviously taking his time, Giriko gave a sigh. "Fuck you're gorgeous," he said, and pulled the cover off of the tray.

From this angle, Mifune couldn't see what was on the tray, even when he lifted his head. He rested his head on the pillows again, feeling a flutter of nervousness in his chest. Giriko was doing something, bent over the tray, then he straightened up and opened one of the suitcases.

The next thing Mifune knew, Giriko was turning towards him, a leather mask in his hands. Mifune shied away slightly. "W-what is that for, sir?"

"Duh," Giriko said dismissively, and pressed it to his eyes. Mifune held rigid, but didn't resist as Giriko lifted his head and tied it behind his head. The blindfold was contoured and cut off all light, so he couldn't even look down his nose to see anything. He felt a whimper bubble up in his throat and swallowed it. So he couldn't see, so what?

He felt fingers brush lightly down his chest. "Oh yeah, fucking gorgeous," Giriko said smugly. "I am so going to enjoy this."

"What are you going to do?" Mifune asked, hearing his own voice high and trembling.

"Whatever I fuckin' want." The answer was no surprise at all, and completely unhelpful at dispelling Mifune's fear, though at least Giriko didn't sound angry.

Then he felt something hot and wet fall onto his chest. He started, his fingers tightening around the bars above his head, and squirmed. "W-what is that?"

"Be polite and maybe I'll tell you," Giriko said, an edge coming to his voice. More of the hot substance was dripping onto his chest and stomach in large globs. It wasn't so hot that it burned him, but it was definitely warm. Was it wax?

Mifune swallowed hard. "Please, sir, what are you doing?" he pleaded softly.

"Mmm... I fuckin' love chocolate fondue, don't you?" Giriko purred.

"What?" Mifune was utterly confused. Had the man gone mad, or was he just refusing to answer him?

Something rough scraped through one of the globs on his chest, and then Mifune felt it press against his lips. He opened his mouth obediently, knowing better than to keep his mouth closed no matter what Giriko put there. He still had a small white scar below his lower lip from Giriko's bite the first time he had disobeyed.

"Good boy," Giriko murmured, pushing the object into Mifune's mouth. "Good...now bite down."

Mifune obeyed, and juice squirted into his mouth. He tasted strawberry, and chocolate, and blinked behind his blindfold. He chewed and swallowed as Giriko brushed another one through the chocolate on his stomach. That one apparently was for him, because it vanished and didn't get pushed into Mifune's mouth. He heard chewing from Giriko as he himself swallowed.

He was completely boggled as Giriko quietly dripped more chocolate onto his chest and fed him morsels of fruit coated in the sweetness. This was definitely the most bizarre thing Giriko had ever done. Why do something so...pleasant, but scare him first by blindfolding him and not telling him what he planned?

He scarcely gave Mifune time to ask any questions, either, shoving pieces of fruit into his mouth as quickly as he could swallow each one, though he definitely took almost an equal amount for himself.

Then finally as Mifune's stomach was starting to feel overfull from the amount of fruit he'd eaten, he swallowed and there was no more. He felt more chocolate being drizzled over his chest, stomach and even his cock and thighs.

"Taste good?" Giriko asked, his tone smug.

"Uh. Yes," Mifune admitted, his confusion obvious in his voice. "Thank you, sir."

Fingers tangled in his hair, though Giriko was careful not to dislodge the mask. "See? I can be a good master, too, right? I can do nice things for ya."

 _If you want to get something out of me,_ Mifune thought cynically, though he couldn't for the life of him think of why Giriko had shared the fruit with him. Using him as some kind of...serving tray was certainly in character for Giriko, but he had rarely pampered him in any way.

"Y-yes, sir," Mifune said awkwardly.

"Mmm...and now ya look good enough to eat, for sure," Giriko said, and bent low over him. Mifune felt his tongue slide up the inside of his thigh, where a line of hot chocolate had been dripping down his skin.

Mifune whimpered. Giriko's tongue was everywhere, licking up one thigh to his hip and then the other, obviously cleaning up every trace of the chocolate.

He was as hard as a rock, trembling and aching with arousal.

Then Giriko's tongue ran up his cock from root to tip. Mifune cried out and shuddered violently, struggling not to thrust upwards or squirm.

"Ooooh, you want that," Giriko growled, low. "How'd you like me to suck you for a change, Mifune? You'd like that, huh?"

Mifune reddened. "Y-yes, sir," he gasped, sincerely. That had been incredible, and he knew that it could feel even better.

Giriko laughed, rough derision and a strange sort of condescending affection together. "Never happen, so get it out of your mind. Only whores and slaves kneel, Mifune. You think for a second that I'm a whore like you?"

"No, no sir," Mifune said hastily, realizing his mistake instantly, even as he loathed the words Giriko used to describe him and the derision in his tone. "I...I only meant that it felt really good, sir."

"Good boy," Giriko said, sounding a bit mollified. He bent over Mifune again, licking his way up his stomach. "I know I'm bein' nice this weekend, and you've been away from me for a week," he said in between cleaning swipes of his tongue. "I wouldn't want ya to think that we're equals."

"No, sir," Mifune said with a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Believe me, I know by now that I'm your slave and you're my...my..."

He hadn't really thought about what the right term might be until this moment, and for a moment he was at a loss. He called Giriko 'sir', of course, but that didn't give him much of a clue. And certainly, whatever Angela might believe, Giriko wasn't his boyfriend.

"I'm your master," Giriko supplied, almost gently.

"Yes, sir," Mifune said, grasping onto the term with mixed relief and revulsion. "You're my master."

He felt Giriko smile against his skin, just above his navel, and then Giriko's tongue flickered against his skin once more, making him tingle. Every swipe of Giriko's tongue made him want to squirm.

"On Sunday, you gotta call me master. Remember that," Giriko murmured. "Though 'sir' is okay most of the time, and if ya slip up once or twice I won't punish you."

"Yes, sir," Mifune said with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Perhaps Giriko didn't really _have_ any plans for Sunday, except to debase and degrade Mifune as much as he possibly could, breaking him down and grinding him under his boot until any lasting damage that might have been done during the week away and the day of choice on Saturday were gone.

Giriko straddled him and kissed him deeply, thrusting his tongue possessively into Mifune's mouth as he ground down into Mifune's groin. Giriko was naked, and Mifune could feel his hard cock slip over his own and gasped, rocking upwards against him. The chain jingled against the iron. Giriko's tongue tasted like chocolate.

"Oh yeah...fuck," Giriko murmured, nipping him sharply on the jaw as he ground harder down. "Fuck, Mifune. I love how fuckin' much you want this. You're such an eager little slut, and normally you don't even get the chance to move and show me how much ya want it, right?"

Mifune moaned, not even listening to the filthy words Giriko spoke, and rocked upwards mindlessly. He didn't know how long he'd been chained here, unable to move or see, aroused and waiting for Giriko to touch him, but there was no way he could remain aloof.

Then Giriko sighed. "But I ain't gonna fuck ya yet," he said with what sounded like honest regret, and pulled away.

For a moment, Mifune just whimpered pleadingly, bereft of any touch and not understanding what had happened. Then Giriko pulled off the blindfold and he blinked up, squinting against the light. The chains released and he lowered his arms, wondering what was going on now.

"Why...why did you stop, sir?" he asked, utterly perplexed.

Giriko was gazing down at him hungrily, standing beside the bed. "Nearly got carried away there," he said with a smirk. "You're just too fuckin' tempting."

Hesitantly, Mifune sat up. "Carried away?"

"Yeah, before I do that, I got a present for ya," Giriko said in a strangely animated tone of voice, and bent to unzip one of the suitcases. Mifune could see that it was the one that he had carried up, which had been clanking so oddly.

He didn't have high expectations for this 'gift', expecting it to be some vicious torture implement, but Giriko withdrew a large lumpy package from the suitcase, so big that it had almost taken up the entire suitcase. It was wrapped clumsily in paper. It was a plain brown like butcher paper, taped together haphazardly, not wrapping paper.

Mifune was utterly confused as Giriko handed it to him. The weapon was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes bright with _excitement_ , rather than malice. The package was so heavy it was hard to hold.

Had Mifune fallen into a bizarre parallel universe? He looked up at Giriko, pleasure and wariness warring inside him. Had he, somehow, pleased Giriko to the point that he had decided he didn't need to hurt Mifune so much anymore? If so, it was an incredible relief.

Maybe...this wasn't so bad after all.

He looked down at the extremely heavy package in his hands and nervously unwrapped it.

At first he thought it was a large piece of artwork, a hunk of abstractly carved marble, white and covered in swirls of black veins. But then the object shuddered in his hand and began to uncurl, a head lifting up and arms and legs straightening out. He set it hastily down on the bed and it stood up.

It was a golem, about three feet tall, and unlike any golem Mifune had ever seen. Its face was delicately and exquisitely carved into a pleasant, doll-like face. Its body was smooth and had been polished until it glowed.

But it also had a huge projection jutting out from the front, long and slender, and with a slight knob at the end.

"I spent all week making it," Giriko said, beaming. "You see, I can make art if I want to. You like it?"

Mifune's mouth opened and closed a few times. "You're going to put that thing inside me?" he asked in a strained, shaking voice, backing away up the bed and pressing himself against the headboard, curling his body up and pressing his knees almost to his chest. "No! Keep it away from me, _please_!"

Giriko had done a lot of things that would have horrified him, and had been using dildos on him since almost his first day. But there was something about the images that came to mind of how this thing could be used that horrified Mifune.

A flush of anger was creeping steadily up Giriko's neck. "You don't like it?" he growled. "I made it. It was _your_ idea to make it pretty."

"I didn't tell you to make a...a...machine to fuck me with," Mifune exclaimed. Now he understood why Giriko had told him to use that dildo on himself while he was away. He hadn't wanted the undoubtedly brutal pace and unyielding surface of the golem to hurt him accidentally.

"If I wanna make a golem to fuck you with, you'll fucking well get fucked by a golem!" Giriko snarled.

The tone of his voice only increased Mifune's fear and he threw himself down on the bed. He had never prostrated himself to Giriko before, but the training as a samurai to bow to his betters combined inexorably with the training Giriko had given him, and he found himself kneeling on the bed, his hands flat on the mattress and his nose almost touching it as well.

"Please, please," he whimpered. He couldn't even say why it terrified him so much, but somehow a line had been crossed. Giriko was a man. No matter how much force he could bring to bear, it was only a man's strength. If he pushed a dildo inside him, he could only do so with so much brutality.

What if this thing was too hard? What if it wasn't programmed right? What if it hurt more than Mifune could bear? What if its hard, marble cock broke something inside him?

"Mifune," Giriko said. The anger seemed to have left him, and he sounded more confused than anything. A hand rested on Mifune's head, brushing through his hair. "Fucking hell, calm down. It ain't gonna be that bad."

Mifune shook his head in silent negation of Giriko's words, his throat utterly closed. What the hell did Giriko know? He would never subject _himself_ to such a thing, that much was certain.

Giriko sighed after a moment. "Look," he said sternly. "I worked hard on that thing, and I wanna try it out. If it don't work right, then I'll make it stop. But you don't got anything to worry about. I've hurt ya way worse, and if you've been tellin' me the truth about what you did while I was away, you won't get hurt."

He wasn't going to change his mind. Mifune's heart sank into his stomach and he whimpered softly. Desperately, he struggled to find something to say, _something_ that would make him reconsider.

"M-master," he said, trying the term out of utter desperation. "Is...is this how you killed your other slaves? By...trying things out on them?" Maybe he could get him to see his folly this way. He had _said_ that he didn't want to train another slave, and he had always given him the strange impression that Mifune was somehow special to him. Even Bekko had seemed amazed by the difference between Mifune and the type of person Giriko usually went for. From the beginning it had been unusual.

There was a short silence. Mifune didn't dare lift his head to see Giriko's expression, his body still prostrated before him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Giriko asked in a mystified and angry tone. "What other slaves?" Giriko dropped down to sit on the mattress, and it bucked slightly with the force with which he sat. Mifune felt his fingers curl in his hair and didn't resist as Giriko dragged him up and turned his head to look at him.

Giriko searched Mifune's face, though Mifune tried to keep his eyes lowered. He _had_ to play the most perfect and submissive slave he could, he knew. If he had any chance of getting out of this, he couldn't afford to piss him off with defiance.

"Bekko told me," Mifune said softly. "He said you...you usually have someone, and that the ones you don't get tired of quickly, die." He clasped his hands tightly together, but could still feel them shaking. "I don't want to die like that," he said. "I want to die by the sword. Please. If it's going to be like that then I'd rather you killed me with a sword in my hand."

" _Bekko_ told you that?" Giriko exclaimed. "When did he tell you that?"

Mifune could well imagine that Giriko was angry that Mifune had found out. Certainly it wouldn't be something he would want his slaves to know about, or they might try to escape him to save their own lives. He thought hard. "I think it was the first night after Arachne gave me to you," he said. "Yes, I'm sure it was. He and I were going to Angela-sama, because she'd had a nightmare, and he told me."

"Well _fuck_ , Mifune," Giriko let go of his hair and Mifune immediately bent low again. "No. Fuck. Sit up! That's enough of that shit for now."

Trembling, Mifune obeyed, straightening into seiza. His shoulders remained hunched and his eyes lowered.

"Why didn't ya say anything sooner?" Giriko demanded, leaning close and grabbing Mifune's chin, forcing his eyes up and studying his expression.

Mifune frowned. "I...I don't know," he said. "It didn't really come up."

Giriko sighed heavily. "It's a fucking _lie_ ," he growled.

"Huh?" Mifune stared at him in confusion. "It is? But...but why would Bekko lie about that?"

"Fuck, I don't know!" Giriko released Mifune and threw his hands up in frustration. "Probably it's just a fuckin' rumour he was repeating. I have fucked a coupla the soldiers in Arachne's army before I took you, and I've been trainin' slaves for centuries. Usually willin' ones, of course."

He glanced at Mifune askance for a moment before going on. "There was one that died, yeah. But it was an accident. It was a stupid fucking thing that happened. I'd gagged him wrong and it slipped, and he strangled on it. It was a fuckin' _accident_ , and I learned from it. Trainin' slaves is way too much work to just fuckin' up and kill them all the time."

Mifune didn't know what to say. The words were slightly reassuring, though he didn't exactly sense remorse in Giriko's tone at the death of the one slave who _had_ lost his life at Giriko's hands.

He also didn't get the part about them being willing. That seemed like utter nonsense. Who would willingly go through this hell?

The silence drew out for a few moments, before Mifune finally said, "Oh."

Giriko chuckled softly and reached for him, putting a hand at the back of his neck. He squeezed, then let the hand move up into his hair. "Feel better?"

Mifune frowned at the question. "Sort of," he admitted. "I'm glad that you don't usually murder your slaves."

The rough fingers were moving through his hair. "Guess you were just waitin' for me to lose it, huh? Fuck up and kill ya." Giriko blinked, then shook his head. "Hell, you've begged me not to kill ya a coupla times, and I never thought to ask why."

Mifune chewed his lower lip at the reminder. Even now, after what he'd just done, prostrating himself before Giriko and begging him, he still had further discomfort at the thought of any of the times he had begged not to be killed, rather than fought his way out of the situation as he knew he should have done.

Would have done, if it weren't for the fact that Angela's safety depended on his obedience to Giriko. He knew he shouldn't feel shamed or weak because of his behaviour, but that didn't stop it from seeming shameful to his own mind.

"Yes, sir, I was," he admitted quietly.

Giriko chuckled ruefully. "Well, at least it probably broke ya faster, scarin' ya that badly."

This made Mifune twitch. It would be nice if Giriko felt at least a _little_ bit bad about the whole thing.

"Anyway," Giriko said with a great sigh. "Now that we've got that all out of the way, go on and take your position now."

Mifune blinked, his stomach dropping out. "W-what, sir?"

Giriko let go of him and flapped a hand towards the headboard. "You heard me."

Hesitating, Mifune glanced towards the golem, which was still standing on the bed looking like some freakish cross between Michelangelo's David and a primitive fertility totem. "Are you going to use that?"

Rough fingers grabbed Mifune's chin again and Giriko pulled his head around to meet his gaze once more. The weapon stared at him with a firm expression in his eyes. "Lemme ask ya something," he said. "Does it matter if I am or not? Do I gotta answer to you either way?"

Mifune stared into Giriko's eyes, and this time he actually _felt_ something break inside him. It was an almost physical sensation, and he sagged slightly as if one of his foundation stones had cracked and he was a building sinking into a bog. "No, sir," he said softly.

"Good," Giriko said with distinct approval in his tone. "So you gonna do what I say, so we can have a good day tomorrow, doing whatever ya like?"

"Yes, sir," Mifune said hollowly, and turned away. He grabbed onto the headboard and bent low, waiting for the chains lash him to the iron bars.

He waited for a moment, then heard Giriko speak again, thoughtfully. "You're so good, but let's set things up a little differently. I don't want ya to panic and hurt _yourself_."

Mifune started in surprise, scarcely able to believe Giriko was making such a concession. Giriko caught Mifune by the arm and tugged him up, then shifted in between him and the headboard, seating himself in front of the samurai, facing him. "You can hang onto me," Giriko told him. "You hang on just as tight as you can, got it?"

Mifune hesitated, then nodded, wrapping his arms around Giriko's neck and pressing his cheek against his chest. Why did this feel so much more comforting?

Giriko's hands stroked his back, and then Mifune felt him lift a hand. "Okay, start," he said. Mifune felt his entire body tense, strung like a bow in anticipation.

"You relax now," Giriko said sternly, stroking his back. "I've got ya."

Mifune felt cold, hard hands touch his skin, grip his hipbones, and he whimpered, hating himself for the fearful sound.

Then something even colder touched him intimately, pressing against his entrance. Mifune started to gasp for breath, struggling to relax, as the hard instrument pushed with slow, inexorable force into his body.

It felt hard and ice cold, but was so smooth that it didn't seem to even need lubricant. It slid in with barely any resistance, though Mifune could feel his body clenching around it as his muscles protested the intrusion. Each clench of his own muscles sent a shock through him, increasing the intensity of the sensations.

Finally it stopped, but Mifune only had an instant to try to catch his breath before it began to withdraw again. It moved slowly, its thrusts regular and unvarying in their intensity, pounding in and out of his body with mechanical precision.

Mifune felt a cry bubbling up in his throat, a low, wavering, drawn-out sound that he couldn't control. He clung to Giriko, feeling his hands in his hair, fingers stroking his spine. But so far this hadn't been nearly as bad as he had expected.

"There now," Giriko said triumphantly. "Fuck, you don't mind this at all, do ya? Just like I thought, that you'd like it once ya tried it. You've been pretty adventurous so far."

Mifune gasped for breath, his body beginning to react with more fervour to the thrusts. Each one brought that knob on the end of the golem's cock against his prostate, and shocks of pleasure ran through him over and over. Soft cries and moans began to escape his throat, until finally Giriko shifted. He curled his fingers more firmly in Mifune's hair and pushed, guiding him downwards unresisting until Giriko's hard and eager cock bumped against Mifune's lips.

Without even the slightest thought about what he was doing, Mifune opened his mouth and plunged his head down the rest of the way under his own power, beginning to suck and bob his head up and down.

Giriko gasped and groaned aloud, his fingers spasming in Mifune's hair for a moment. Then he seized the hair more firmly. "Setting two," he ordered aloud, and for a moment the slave wondered what that meant, what Giriko meant him to do by giving him that order, before the golem began to thrust harder and faster into his body and he realized that Giriko hadn't been addressing him at all.

Mifune cried out as the feelings ramped upwards inside him, his body beginning to writhe, except he could barely move at all, caught by the immovable, implacable thrusting of the marble cock into his body. Giriko's own hips began to thrust upwards at almost the same rhythm, his hand holding Mifune's head steady as he fucked his mouth hard, as brutally as he had that first day.

Mifune somehow managed not to choke this time, perhaps because the practice he'd had had helped to eradicate some of his gag reflex. Within moments he no longer tried to move at all, merely clinging to Giriko and giving himself over, surrendering and falling limp and utterly pliable in the arms of the golem-maker and his golem.

Fucked from both directions at once, Mifune just held on as the sensations moved through him, his body tightening as the golem drove him with ruthless efficiency into orgasm.

He screamed around the obstruction in his mouth, and felt his body clenching again around the marble penetrating him. Writhing and helpless, he felt Giriko thrust once more, even more deeply into his mouth, and then tasted a rush of bitter salty fluid, which drove the last of the taste of chocolate and fruit from his mouth. He swallowed desperately so as not to choke, the orgasm still sending waves of pleasure through him, intensified by the continuing, inexorable pounding of the golem into his ass.

Finally, finally, Giriko took pity on him. Mifune heard him gasp something to the golem and it withdrew from Mifune's shaking, abused and spent body. Mifune collapsed to the bed, shuddering, and aware that his face was wet with tears. Giriko's softening member had slipped from his mouth already and his head was in Giriko's lap, the weapon's fingers moving gently through his hair.

"There, was that so much of a fuckin' disaster?" Giriko asked smugly.

Mifune wasn't quite sure he would be able to speak, but he tried. "N-no sir," he rasped, his throat raw from screaming and from the fierce abuse, especially at the end. He hadn't gagged much, though, and he had managed to swallow almost all of Giriko's come. Some of it had dripped down his chin, but he was too overwhelmed and inured to wipe it away.

He fell asleep like that without even meaning to, his head pillowed in Giriko's lap and his arms curled loosely around his waist, rough, calloused fingers stroking his blond hair rhythmically, and his body aching pleasantly.

* * *

The following day passed - shockingly - without incident. Mifune and Giriko awoke almost together and Giriko insisted that Mifune take care of his morning erection before the day 'properly started'. It didn't seem worthwhile to argue about it, and it wasn't unpleasant to deal with it with a couple of pulls with his hand and the judicious use of his mouth.

After this, they had breakfast. To Mifune's surprise, Giriko didn't make an issue of him sitting in a chair, though he had made general rumblings about it being a concession to allow it.

Then, heading out into the city and chained to one another by the wrist once more, Mifune resolved to make Giriko as miserable as possible.

He started with Notre Dame Cathedral, because it was within walking distance of their hotel. Giriko wandered with his face turning from side to side, looking at the stained glass, the statues and the various decorations with every evidence of utter boredom.

Excellent.

After walking around Paris for a while longer, and having lunch at an outdoor caf on the Avenue des Champs-Elysees, they headed for the Louvres.

Mifune had little interest in art, but he was betting that Giriko had even less. In fact, Mifune wasn't all that interested in doing touristy things at all, even though this might be the first and last time he would be able to visit Paris. It just wasn't in his nature to wander about a city, looking at buildings and paintings and statues.

But he was more than willing to suffer if it meant Giriko was suffering even more. And he was satisfied to see that Giriko was growing more and more impatient with every slow and ponderous hour spent gazing at the admittedly glorious building and its contents.

Finally Mifune quietly suggested that Giriko go back to the hotel, and that he would return later on that night when he was done, but this was obviously the wrong thing to say.

"Yeah, fuck you," Giriko growled. "If you want to act like a limp-wristed poufe all day like the rest of these Frogs, then I'm not gonna stop ya, but I ain't leavin' your side so you can run off or do something stupid."

"I won't run away," Mifune protested. "Angela-sama is still at Baba Yaga's Castle."

"Fuck you, anyway. I ain't goin' anywhere," Giriko replied, and the matter was settled.

To Mifune's surprise, dinner was honestly enjoyable. They went - at Giriko's suggestion - to a steakhouse, and shared a bottle of wine. Mifune felt exceedingly underdressed, but Giriko apparently didn't care, striding brazenly into the restaurant in his fur-lined jacket and rumpled shirt and jeans and demanding a table. Mifune, in his ragged clothing, was given an extremely contemptuous glance from the host, but Giriko slipped what looked like a wad of Euros into the man's hand and they were led to a table in the furthest corner of the restaurant, away from the other patrons.

It was surprisingly nice to just sit at a table and _talk_ to Giriko. Their breakfast and lunch conversation had been mostly nonexistent, but a bit of alcohol loosened their tongues enough. For once, Giriko didn't belittle or insult Mifune with nearly every word he said, and Mifune found himself talking about his past, how he had met Angela, while Giriko told him some amusing stories about golem-building and living in the alchemist's village.

They collapsed into bed close to midnight, footsore, with Giriko bitching into Mifune's ear.

"If I see another fuckin' painting this weekend, I'm gonna take a lighter to it," Giriko growled, sliding his arm around Mifune and tugging him close. "You like that shit? Fuck, what a day."

"Sure," Mifune lied, tucking himself close in the darkness. "It was a good day." That part was true, at least.

"Yeah well, I'll get my revenge tomorrow. Fuck," Giriko muttered.

Mifune shuddered faintly, hoping he hadn't made too big of a mistake by subjecting Giriko to something he'd known he wouldn't enjoy. But at the same time, Giriko didn't seem angry. At most, he just seemed a bit resentful, and Mifune somehow doubted that the weapon would have stood for it if he were really upset. He likely would have dragged Mifune back to the hotel to punish him if he'd realized that Mifune was doing it on purpose.

These uncertain thoughts swirling through his head, Mifune closed his eyes and relaxed against Giriko. Soon the weapon was snoring softly, and that familiar sound quickly lulled Mifune to sleep.

* * *

Sunday was as different from Saturday as it was possible to be, though that didn't surprise Mifune in the least. From the moment he woke in the morning it seemed obvious that Giriko intended to carry out his vengeance for the day before, and reassert his dominance, just as Mifune had suspected he would.

At breakfast Mifune was forced to his knees beside Giriko's chair in the hotel restaurant, and then chained to it so he couldn't rise. Giriko ate heartily while Mifune knelt there, his face burning and his wrists chained together, as people passing by gave him curious or disapproving looks. Every few minutes Giriko would offer him some titbit to take from his fingers, and Mifune did manage to eat enough not to be hungry, but it was a singularly humiliating experience.

And then they went back to the hotel room, and Giriko spanked him until he was screaming for relief. Giriko had put a cock ring on him, and no matter how Mifune pleaded Giriko ignored him completely.

The cock ring remained on through lunch, which was delivered by room service. Mifune fed the meal to Giriko with shaking fingers, still so aroused he could scarcely think, his backside smarting. Only when Giriko was full did he allow Mifune to take a plate down to the floor, where he ate hungrily with his fingers, Giriko petting his hair possessively. He hadn't eaten much at breakfast, not nearly enough, and he was starving.

By that point, he was just happy Giriko had allowed him clothes for breakfast, though he supposed he probably would have been arrested otherwise. Giriko certainly didn't seem inclined to give Mifune any other concessions.

By dinnertime, Mifune lay insensible on the bed, welts covering his back. He had finally been allowed to climax halfway through the beating with the crop, which Giriko had delivered with relish. Giriko had then taken him hard, using Mifune's body ruthlessly until he himself had come to orgasm, and only then releasing Mifune and letting him collapse to the mattress to recover.

Mifune's limbs were heavy and his back was aching. He sucked in breaths with a sound like sobs, but Giriko brushed fingers down his back, murmuring soft approvals.

"Who do ya belong to, Mifune?" Giriko asked him suddenly.

"Y-you, master," Mifune whimpered, curling up slightly. Giriko hadn't said that he was punishing him for anything in particular by using the crop, but he was sure that it had been because he had deliberately bored him the previous day. How he could have thought he'd get away with even such a passive disobedience, he couldn't imagine.

"Yeah," Giriko said with relish. "And would you do anythin' I tell ya to do? Anythin' at all?"

Mifune's heart was pounding. "Yes, master," he breathed. What was Giriko going to ask him to do now?

"Good." Giriko leaned away and opened a suitcase, leaving Mifune in paralyzed, silent agony for a few moments, waiting to hear what was going to be asked of him next. Then some objects fell with a soft rustle onto the bed. "Clean yourself up and put those on. We're goin' to a party."

Mifune lifted his head with what seemed like incredible difficulty, and saw that a black leather thong had been dropped onto the bed, along with a long trenchcoat.

He stared at it in a mixture of resignation and horror. "W-what kind of party?" he asked, shifting to sit up and grabbing the box of tissues Giriko had thoughtfully set beside the bed on the nightstand. His entire body ached fiercely, and he could feel the welts on his back throbbing. Did he have to mark him up so badly right before he was, apparently, going to have to be almost completely naked in public?

"The kinda party where people like you go, with people like me," Giriko said cryptically. He was dressing as well, and Mifune saw that he apparently wasn't going to wear the same clothes as he had worn to breakfast. Giriko pulled a pair of leather pants on that Mifune was shocked actually fit him. When he had zipped them up, they looked like they'd been painted on.

Giriko glanced at him and noticed him staring. "Hurry up," he said, smirking.

Half an hour later, the taxi pulled up in front of a large, dark building. Purple neon was emblazoned across the front, reading "Marquis de Sade."

Mifune stared at the name in incomprehension as he got out of the taxi, holding the trenchcoat tightly around himself. He was wearing only his normal sandals and the thong underneath, while Giriko was wearing knee-high boots, pants, a black silk shirt, and his fur-lined jacket over top. He was carrying the crop and he brought it sharply against Mifune's ass, making him jump and take another few steps forward quickly.

"Follow behind me," Giriko said, catching the end of the leash as it unfurled towards him. "Keep your head down. Remember goin' to see Arachne-sama? Just act like that, and you'll be fine."

"Yes, master," Mifune said obediently, immediately lowering his eyes and moving to follow Giriko at the sensation of a tug to his neck.

"There'll be other masters," Giriko said. "With their own slaves. You treat them exactly like you'd treat me, though my orders mean more than theirs. If they ask ya to do somethin' that's against my orders, you just tell 'em that and they'll leave ya alone. And don't, under any circumstances, tell anyone that you don't wanna be with me. You're happy as a clam with me. Got it?"

Mifune wondered at the last order, but he nodded. "I've got it, master." The trenchcoat lay heavy on the fresh welts on his back, reminding him constantly of the price of disobedience.

He was utterly terrified, certain he was walking into the pit of hell itself. An entire building full of people like Giriko, each of whom felt that Mifune was nothing but a piece of meat to be used however they liked.

Giriko pulled the door open and they stepped inside. Loud music blasted at their ears and Mifune raised his head slightly to look around, trying to hide the gesture behind his hair.

A beefy man wearing an outfit composed entirely of straps of studded leather stood in front of him. He was wearing a full-face mask as well. "Invitation only," the man growled, but Giriko stuck a hand in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"Pierre knows I'm comin'," Giriko said arrogantly. "So why doncha take my slave's coat and get outta the way."

 _No,_ Mifune thought, clutching the trenchcoat tighter around himself for a moment before reluctantly relinquishing it to the doorman at a sharp look from Giriko. He slipped out of his sandals as well, then stood, trembling and exposed, drawing closer to Giriko as if protection lay in that direction.

"Sorry sir, it's just policy," the doorman said amiably, handing the sheet of paper back to Giriko and hanging the trenchcoat up in a closet. "Please, go on inside. Enjoy the party."

Giriko swept past, tugging Mifune along behind him on the leash. "Relax," he growled to Mifune after they'd passed through the inner door. "Fuck, ya look like you're gonna piss yourself. Nothin' bad's gonna happen."

"I'm sorry, master," Mifune said, swallowing hard and struggling to regain some semblance of composure.

But it was hard, given his surroundings.

They were standing a bit above the rest of the area, which was laid out below them. A bar dominated one wall, and the music was piped in from somewhere. There were speakers in all the corners. Below Mifune and Giriko was, not to put too fine a point on it, an elaborate torture chamber.

Various horrifying-looking structures had been erected around the exterior of the room, and half-naked slaves were strapped to many of them, crying out as leather-clad men and a few women struck them with implements. Others walked around in the middle, chatting, drinking, even dancing.

Giriko had looked strange to Mifune in the leather costume when he first put it on, but now Mifune saw that he looked entirely at home in this environment. His piercings made him look even more fearsome than most, but he certainly wasn't the only one with metal in their face and ears. Many of the other party-goers were tattooed, too.

"Would ya like a tattoo?" Giriko said. "Maybe somethin' special to show the world you belong to me."

Mifune ripped his gaze away from a tall, slender woman who had at first appeared to be wearing clothing until he realized that the colour and patterns he was seeing were all tattoos and all she was actually wearing was a set of leather lingerie and thigh-high boots. He looked at Giriko, eyes wide, and couldn't quite speak, only shaking his head wordlessly in response to the question.

"Ah well, 'twas a thought," Giriko said, beginning to lead him down the steps towards the main floor. "Maybe you'll change your mind someday."

Mifune didn't think so. Not at all.

Giriko found himself a chair near a strange X-shaped wooden structure. A young man was strapped to it, leather manacles at his wrists and ankles holding him in a vulnerable position. The tattooed woman Mifune had seen earlier was cracking a whip against his back and he cried out with each strike. Mifune was shocked to see that he wasn't bleeding, though his back was red from the abuse.

He knelt next to Giriko and looked firmly down at the concrete floor, nauseated.

How could such things be allowed to go on? Didn't the police know? His own situation was unique, he had been sure - he had never thought that there could be some kind of underground network of people who kidnapped others and tortured them for their own sick pleasure. Yet here was a place where it was carried on quite openly, if by 'invitation only'.

He hoped that there wouldn't be a raid. Getting arrested while mostly naked and covered in welts was not his idea of a good time. Besides, he was known to Interpol, he was pretty sure, after working for the mafia.

"Giriko! You dog. I didn't think you'd make it!" The heavily accented voice reached Mifune's ears from not far away, and he nearly looked up before remembering himself. Heavy boots entered his field of vision, and Mifune caught sight of Giriko shaking the newcomer's hand out of the corner of his eye.

There was a woman standing behind the speaker, pale and slender. She wore a corset that left her breasts exposed, and she was wearing leather bracelets and anklets. These had metal rings on them, which Mifune realized could easily be used to hook her to one of the structures around the room.

So. This was a slave.

He looked up slightly, peering at her with uncertain curiosity. She returned his look openly, and smiled.

Startled, he looked away, not smiling back.

Before he could decide what the smile meant, Giriko clapped him on the shoulder. The welt there flared with pain and he winced.

"Hey Mifune, you payin' attention? Say hello to my friend, Pierre," Giriko said jovially.

Mifune looked up automatically. The man towered over him, and was probably taller than he was, even if Mifune had been standing. He was broad-shouldered and fit, wearing a sort of sleeveless leather jacket that left his muscled chest and arms exposed.

"H-hello, sir," Mifune said uncertainly.

Pierre whistled and bent slightly. "You're a pretty one," he said, grinning. "It's nice to meet you, Mifune. What're you doing with this homely fellow?" He jerked a thumb at Giriko, who scowled.

"I..." Mifune started, struggling for a reason that wasn't 'because he'd hurt me if I wasn't', but Giriko broke in loudly.

"He knows real quality when he sees it, that's why," he growled. "So you enjoyin' your birthday or what? How many is that, thirty? You're over the hill, Pierre."

Pierre didn't seem aware of Giriko's irritation and bantered with him for a few minutes while Mifune watched, trying not to let his eyes stray to the slave. He was afraid she'd smile at him again, or do something equally baffling.

Then suddenly she was beside him, sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up towards her almost bare chest. "Hi," she said in a bright, cheerful tone. "This your first party?"

Mifune glanced at her, still confused by her manner. "Yes," he said, and looked away.

She laughed softly and patted him on the shoulder. "I was nervous the first time, too. But Giriko knows what he's doing. He's famous in this scene." She leaned towards him slightly. "Hey, how old is he, do you know? It seems like he's been around forever, from the stories I've heard."

Mifune had no idea what a 'scene' was, and he definitely wasn't inclined to answer her questions. "I really have no idea," he lied.

"Aw," she pouted. "So where are you from?"

"Brooklyn," Mifune said, and before she could ask another question, he quickly turned his face and attention to Giriko and Pierre.

"So I notice you haven't gotten me a present," Pierre said, smirking.

"What? My _bein'_ here is your fuckin' present," Giriko replied. "Do you know how fuckin' hard it was to get here? You have no fuckin' idea, believe me."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it was a long and arduous journey," Pierre said tiredly. "But what about him? I could take him for an hour or so to a private room, put him through his paces." He jerked his thumb towards Mifune and tipped a charming smile full of straight white teeth towards Mifune.

Mifune struggled not to recoil visibly at this suggestion.

"Fuck you," Giriko said loudly. "I ain't lettin' you have him until later, at least. This is his first fuckin' party. At least let him get used to the fuckin' place before you go off and scare him half to death."

"I wouldn't scare him," Pierre said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I think he likes me."

Mifune reddened and looked away. Giriko's words echoed in his mind. Not until later? He really was going to let him have him for a while, then. But hadn't Giriko said Mifune wouldn't be touched by anyone else?

Apparently that didn't apply to 'fetish parties', whatever the hell that meant.

After a bit more banter, Pierre moved away, calling to his own slave to follow him with a "Come along, Isabelle." The woman jumped obediently to her feet and trotted after him - apparently happy as could be.

Poor thing.

Giriko watched the proceedings for a while longer, long enough for Mifune's knees to start to ache from contact with the hard floor. The man on the X-shaped structure was taken down and led away by the woman torturing him, disappearing through a curtain into some kind of back room. Mifune huddled a bit closer to Giriko and the other man stroked his hair soothingly.

So far, so good, but the encounter with Pierre had been ominous.

"So what do ya think so far?" Giriko asked suddenly, leaning a little closer to Mifune and continuing to stroke his hair. "Not so bad, right?"

"Not so far, master," Mifune said, a tiny bit pointedly. He had a hundred questions, but he didn't want to ask them here. The idea of angering Giriko and being punished in front of so many eyes was horrifying.

Giriko laughed. "I'm gonna get a drink, stay here and be good," he said. The chain around Mifune's neck coiled around the heavy chair, and his wrists bound themselves together behind his back as Giriko got to his feet and stretched.

Thus bound and unable to escape, Mifune bowed his head and sighed softly, waiting for Giriko to come back. He supposed it wasn't _that_ bad. Only the sights were disturbing, but no one had hurt him and Giriko hadn't made a spectacle of him.

Now much that had been confusing had become clear, though. Giriko had brought him here to spend a stretch of uninterrupted time reasserting his ownership of Mifune. But he had also apparently had a party invitation, and it seemed obvious that he had _had_ to bring Mifune along or he would have stuck out amongst the other masters, each of whom had at least one slave trailing them.

Boots entered his field of vision again and Mifune looked up in time to see Pierre drop heavily into Giriko's vacated chair. The tall Frenchman's eyes looked Mifune over thoughtfully, and Mifune quickly lowered his gaze.

"Where's Giriko?" the man asked curiously.

"He went to get a drink, sir," Mifune said.

"Oh, that's good," Pierre said amiably. If he weren't clearly a despicable sadistic piece of shit, he might seem nice. "Enjoying the party so far?"

Mifune wasn't enjoying the party at all, but Giriko had told him to pretend to be willing, so he lied. "Yes, sir. It's very interesting."

Pierre's hand rested on his shoulder. "How long have you been going out with Giriko?"

"About a month, sir," Mifune said quietly.

"And this is your first fetish party?" Pierre sounded a little bemused. "But you've probably been kinky your whole life, hmm?"

Mifune's teeth clenched together. This stranger _was_ just like Giriko, convinced just upon looking at his face that Mifune was some kind of pervert, and that it was just in his nature. "My master seems to believe so, sir," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "He's shown me a lot of things I didn't know...it was possible I might like." Though he'd just meant to say something that sounded politic, the last rang a bit too true for his liking. But once he had said the words, he couldn't take them back.

"He's got a knack for finding them," Pierre said with a chuckle. "Inexperienced kinky types, I mean." Then his voice dropped to a more sultry tone. "Since it's my birthday, what do you say to a little play, just you and me?" Mifune tried to tell himself that Pierre's voice wasn't the cause of the shiver that ran down his spine, but that it was a shiver of revulsion, caused by the words he spoke.

He wasn't all that convincing, even to himself.

But that didn't mean he was going to put himself winningly into the hands of another sadist, just like that. He struggled frantically to remember every word Giriko had said since they exited the taxi.

"I...I'd like that sir," he said, a little breathlessly, keeping up the fiction that he was enjoying himself and the debasement that everyone in the room seemed bent on inflicting upon him. "But my master told me to stay right here, and he's chained me to the chair."

Pierre made a startled noise and inspected the chain connecting Mifune to the chair. "So he has. Well, I'm flexible. We could just play a little right here. Perhaps a birthday blowjob? You could just show me how well you use that mouth of yours, and not have to move a bit."

It wasn't phrased exactly like an order, but Mifune understood the type of people he was dealing with. He knew that if Giriko had made such a suggestion and it was refused, Mifune would definitely be punished. And of course Giriko had told him that he should only refuse an order if it conflicted with one of his own.

Giriko hadn't ordered him not to pleasure anyone else, either. In fact, he had implied that Mifune would be required to at some point later - this man in particular.

He swallowed, then said softly. "As you wish, sir."

"You're a good sport," Pierre said cheerfully, and got to his feet. It took only the opening of a button and the purr of a zipper and the leather straining around the tall man's erection parted easily to reveal hardened, engorged flesh.

Mifune closed his eyes and took the unfamiliar cock into his mouth as Pierre pressed forward. Without the use of his hands, he couldn't steady himself, but Pierre touched the back of his head, guiding him with unexpected gentleness. He didn't fuck Mifune's mouth hard, but did rock forward, soft noises of pleasure filtering down over the music, as Mifune sucked and licked, pulling out everything he'd learned to bring this to a quick conclusion.

Just as Pierre gasped and jerked roughly, and salty fluid rushed into Mifune's mouth, he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Hey, is he doing anyone?"

Pierre's cock slipped from Mifune's mouth, and he struggled to swallow the last few drops, only to find another man moving to take Pierre's place, caressing his own cock through the straining leather at his groin.

"You want a piece of this?" the man said, and Mifune nodded obediently, his heart pounding and his stomach roiling as the new man opened his fly and shoved his hips forward.

When Mifune was desperately sucking his fourth, his jaw aching and his throat raw from repressing a coughing fit - the third man had been rather brutal, though still not as bad as Giriko had been in the past - he suddenly heard Giriko's voice loud over the music.

"What the fuck is-- what the _fuck_ is this?" he shouted.

Suddenly the chains at Mifune's wrists and throat tightened brutally. He jerked upwards, his back straightening convulsively, as he struggled with animal mindlessness to bring his hands up to clutch at his throat, without any success. He couldn't breathe, and he was sure he could feel blood running down his skin from where the chains were cutting into him.

He opened his eyes in time to see Giriko shove the man he had been blowing aside. The slave master stumbled back with an angry cry, but both Giriko and Mifune had eyes only for each other. Mifune couldn't imagine why Giriko was so pissed off, and he cowered low, still struggling futilely to draw breath. His world was going black at the edges, and he fought to stay conscious.

"I can't leave for five fucking minutes and you're blowing every damn asshole in the place?" Giriko railed at him. "What the fuck, Mifune?"

Mifune opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He swayed, and suddenly Pierre was there, at Giriko's side.

"What's wrong with him?" the Frenchman demanded, staring in horror at Mifune.

Giriko blinked, and suddenly the chains loosened. Mifune collapsed instantly to the ground as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut, and gasped for breath.

He could hear Giriko still shouting as he rounded on Pierre. "Fuck you, Pierre," the weapon snarled with murderous heat, getting right in Pierre's face despite the fact that the man topped him by six inches. "I know this is your fucking fault, you fucking pervert. Fucking hell, we're fuckin' outta here."

Mifune could vaguely hear Pierre protesting as Giriko grabbed Mifune by the hair and hauled him to his feet. There were exclamations of dismay and anger all around him as Giriko grabbed the chain and dragged him away, but he had no time to hear the words of the people around him, had no attention to spare, beyond keeping his feet.

Suddenly they were outside, and the gravel on the pavement bit hard into Mifune's bare feet. The night air was cool on his skin, and his throat throbbed and burned. His arms were still bound, and he could feel wetness on his hands and neck, drops of blood rolling down his back and chest. Giriko had never cut him with the chains before. They weren't hurting him anymore, but they were still writhing like snakes, keeping him alert and terrified that at any moment they might tighten once more.

A taxi was idling outside, and Giriko yanked the door open, shoving Mifune bodily into the cab. In a moment the weapon had come around to the other side and gotten in, then he barked the name of their hotel at the driver, and the taxi pulled away from the club.

There was no reprieve. Giriko focused his full attention on Mifune, apparently not caring that the driver could hear every word he spoke.

"Open your whoring mouth," Giriko snarled angrily, opening his own fly one-handed and dragging Mifune's head down towards his groin.

Still struggling to catch his own breath, and unable to hold himself up with his wrists chained together, Mifune parted his lips obediently and took Giriko's cock into his mouth. Giriko braced him with one hand on his shoulder, barely enough to give him the leverage he needed to bob his head up and down, plunging his head downwards so far that he nearly choked.

"You're mine," Giriko growled into his ear, softly, as he began to rock his hips upwards, thrusting deeper into Mifune's mouth. "You hear me? _Mine_."

Choking and almost gagging on the deepest thrusts, all Mifune could do was hold his jaw open wide and let Giriko take him. The weapon fucked his mouth as brutally and thoroughly as he had ever done, jerking wildly towards the end and shoving Mifune's head down even further until his nose pressed against the leather-clad thigh. All Mifune could do was struggle to breathe and wait for it to be over.

Finally Giriko grunted and fluid flooded into Mifune's mouth. He swallowed it all, terrified to spill even a drop no matter how difficult it was to manage.

Then Giriko shoved him hard against the door, thrusting Mifune away from him as if he were something foul he didn't want touching him.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing?" he snarled. "Give me a fucking answer. _Now_."

Mifune pressed against the door, but he was all but doubled over, shaking, his head bowed so low that it touched the back of the seat in front of him. "P-please, I...I was trying to do what you wanted, master," he stammered, his voice thick with fear and rough with abuse.

"You thought I fuckin' _wanted_ you to give a blowjob to every fuckin' man in the place?" Giriko replied incredulously. "Fuck, Mifune, I always called you a whore, but I didn't think you _were_ one!"

This incredible statement passed into Mifune's brain and out again almost immediately. He had no time to consider it right now.

"You...you said I should obey them as if they were you," he said helplessly. "And you didn't say that I shouldn't give them a blowjob if that's what they wanted from me."

There was a short, startled pause. "Jesus fucking Christ," Giriko said, sounding a little awed now, and not nearly so angry all of a sudden. Mifune didn't understand the reason for the outburst, and pressed still more tightly against the door.

Another few moments of silence, then Giriko said roughly, "Lift your head, lemme get a look at ya."

Mifune straightened, his cheeks flaming with shame and misery, his eyes averted. Giriko leaned closer and he flinched away involuntarily as Giriko touched the chain at his throat.

"Didn't mean ta do that," Giriko said in what sounded almost like an apologetic tone. "Fuck, Mifune... I thought ya didn't _need_ me to order somethin' like that, so specific. I never thought if they wanted somethin' you didn't wanna give that you wouldn't find some way around it - lie and say I'd said no, or somethin'."

Mifune glanced at him in astonishment. "Y-you... you _said_ ," he said, hearing his own voice shift to something like a plea. He was still shaking from head to toe. "You said to stay where I was, to be good and obey them. They're like...like you. How could you not expect that they would do something like this to me, when you do it all the time?"

Giriko eyed him for a moment. "They ain't like me," he said in a rough tone. "They never forced anyone. Not on purpose, anyway."

Mifune stared at him uncomprehendingly. "I...I don't understand, master," he said softly.

"Yeah, so I see," Giriko said tiredly, slumping back in his seat. "Well...fuck. No wonder you were so fuckin' upset when you saw the place. You're so _naïve_ in some ways. Christ."

The taxi moved on for a few minutes, the silence heavy over the back seat. Mifune devoutly hoped that the driver didn't speak any English.

The chains around his wrists suddenly loosened and withdrew, allowing him to move his hands once more. He clasped them in his lap, but Giriko reached for him and drew him closer, until his head was resting against his shoulder. Mifune didn't resist the pull, though he wanted to. He squeezed his eyes shut as his ear pressed against Giriko's shoulder, struggling to relax, but his body was still strung tight as a bow, even though Giriko didn't seem angry at him anymore.

"Well, if ya didn't hate me before," Giriko muttered to himself. "Christ, Mifune, the people in there aren't like us, okay? They just like a little spice, like to play like they're master and slave. But they're normal fuckin' people. After the party they go home to a white picket fence, two and a half kids and a job."

Mifune could scarcely believe that this was possible. The man he had seen being whipped had wanted such treatment?

Yet he had to admit that there were aspects of his own treatment that weren't horrible. If he had known such things existed, and had sought them out willingly, would he be able to bear them and remain himself? Perhaps he would.

"I...I didn't know people did that," he admitted softly. He pressed more firmly against Giriko, who wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Master, may I ask a question?" Mifune asked hesitantly after a few moments of silence.

Giriko didn't say anything for a moment, then grunted. "Okay."

"Why does it matter to you that I didn't refuse?" Mifune said in a soft voice, almost not daring to ask.

"Because!" Giriko exclaimed almost explosively, causing Mifune to cringe away again for a moment, his heart beating frantically. Giriko grabbed him and dragged him back against him, holding on too tightly for Mifune to get away. "You're _mine_ , damnit. I never meant for Pierre to have ya, not for a second. It was just bullshit, and...and ya took it seriously."

He shook his head and finished more quietly. "And it's my fault for not explainin' to ya properly. So it ain't your fault you didn't understand."

Once again, Giriko's words astonished Mifune. He was taking responsibility for Mifune's mistake?

"It's not my fault?" he echoed weakly.

"No it _ain't_ ," Giriko insisted. Mifune absorbed this, still stunned, while Giriko relaxed and began to stroke Mifune's hair gently.

"Well...fuck," Giriko said finally. "I was lookin' forward to that party, too. And you didn't get a damn thing out of it, either. I wanted ya to see that there are people like you, people who're happy that way."

"But...you said that they're not like us," Mifune murmured.

"Yeah well," Giriko said dismissively. "Sure, it ain't _exactly_ the same, because I broke ya to it instead of you wantin' it from the beginning. But that don't mean that you can't be happy bein' with me. If ya just understood that it wasn't so bad, really."

This all seemed rather illogical, and yet Mifune somewhat understood where Giriko was coming from.

It was absurd, of course. Mifune had already reconciled himself to the situation, but he supposed it would be easier on Giriko if _Giriko_ were in the position of having a willing and eager slave instead of a half-broken and recalcitrant one who could change his mind at any time if he had the least opportunity.

The taxi was slowing and Mifune lifted his head wearily to see that they were pulling up in front of their hotel.

Abruptly he realized that they had a very serious problem. "M-master," he said. "The trenchcoat, and my shoes. I...I'm barely wearing anything."

Giriko sounded chagrined. "Yeah," he said. He'd obviously realized this long ago. "Well, there's nothin' for it, really. But it's late, so there probably won't be too many people. It'll be okay." He caught Mifune by the hair and turned his face upwards, capturing his lips in a deep and possessive kiss.

The kiss left Mifune a little breathless, his defences low as it was, and his emotions still swirling. He sat up, trying to smooth his rumpled hair back down and glancing down at himself, at his bare chest and the scrap of fabric covering his groin. Thank goodness, he was only a small bit aroused. The terror had dealt with that rather neatly.

Giriko had paid the taxi driver, and the weapon climbed out. As he straightened, the leash uncoiled out towards him and Mifune crawled out on the same side as Giriko caught hold of it.

Did he have to parade him like this, leash and all? But it was Giriko - of course he did. The look on the weapon's face certainly showed that he was enjoying every moment of it, his smirk wide and his eyes alight with interest and amusement.

"Let's give 'em a show," he said, and Mifune found himself dragged off after him as he strode brazenly towards the hotel.

Mifune stared at the floor determinedly, not wanting to even _know_ how many people would see him like this, barely clad, welts covering his back, ass, and thighs. He heard shocked whispers, but no outright exclamations as Giriko led him to the elevator. No one tried to stop them, or addressed them directly.

Thankfully, the door opened the moment he pressed the call button and quickly they were out of view.

"Yanno," Giriko said as the elevator doors closed and the elevator began to rise. He stepped close and put a hand to Mifune's shoulder, then pressed him against the wall of the elevator with his whole body. "You were real good tonight. All day, really. Ya didn't complain once."

Mifune looked up at him, saw the way his lips were twisted into a strange sort of approving smile, not a derisive smirk. The sight made his insides shiver. "I was good?" he asked, a little surprised. Considering that Giriko had dragged him out of the party in a towering rage, he hadn't thought that was a good way to describe it.

"Yeah," Giriko confirmed. The doors opened and he released him, leading him back to their room and not speaking until the door had been closed behind them.

Mifune looked at the bed longingly. He couldn't remember ever being so tired in his entire life.

"Clean off the blood, and then ya can sleep," Giriko told him, jerking a thumb towards the bathroom. Mifune flushed at the realization that his thoughts had been so transparent, and headed to the bathroom.

"You're an open book to me now, Mifune," Giriko told him, pacing him and then pausing in the doorway. Mifune tried not to look at him, wetting a cloth and rubbing at his wrists and around his neck. There were thin cuts etched into his skin, and he wondered if they would scar.

Probably.

Giriko had complimented him on his lack of scarring when they'd first begun this, and now he had several, all inflicted by Giriko.

"So I've been thinkin' all the way back here," Giriko said, watching him clean off the blood. "It's time for you ta move in with me."

Mifune whirled around, staring at him in shock and dismay. "W-what--"

Giriko raised a hand and glowered, and Mifune fell silent, biting his lip. "I know what you're gonna say, but there's nothin' else to do. We'll get adjoinin' suites, and Angela will be in one, you and I in the other. You take care of her like normal, and you can even live a pretty normal life durin' the day, but you'll be closer by me, so I can see how you're doin', keep ya in line if I need to."

"But..." Mifune struggled to speak though he knew Giriko didn't want him to. "But master, if you want me to live normally during the day then what's the difference if I live with you or not?"

"We proved tonight, you've changed," Giriko said firmly. "You ain't as self-reliant as you were. If I'd taken ya to that place a couplea weeks ago, told ya to behave or I'd hurt Angela or somethin' you'd have behaved, but ya _wouldn't_ have let them do that if ya didn't want to. You sayin' I'm wrong?"

Mifune hesitated. He turned away abruptly and wetted the cloth again, scrubbing furiously at the blood on his skin, but his hands were trembling. Was Giriko right? Or would he still have obeyed the other masters out of ignorance?

Giriko was suddenly behind him, stroking light calloused fingers down his spine. "It ain't your fault," he said quietly. "I did this to ya. But this is pretty much the worst it'll get, I swear. Once you start ta accept and like it, then you'll come out the other side."

That sounded like utter and complete lunacy, but Mifune bowed his head, letting the pink-stained towel drop into the sink with a soft plop. "What do you mean, come out the other side, master?" he whispered miserably. All he could picture now as the inevitable result of this was for him to lose his mind completely - be unable to think for himself or do anything without Giriko's instructions.

Was that what he meant? That Mifune would at least be happy that way, instead of this crushing fear, loneliness, and despair he felt now?

Giriko sighed. "You'll understand when it happens. But anyway, that's my final word on it, so that's what's gonna happen. You can get packed up and move as soon as we get back. I'll just need a day or two to find the right place for us to take over together."

"Yes, master," Mifune said obediently - if unhappily - and allowed himself to be led back to the bed.

He pulled off the single article of clothing he wore and crawled under the covers. A few moments later, Giriko wrapped himself around him, spoonwise, and fell asleep almost immediately, snoring softly into Mifune's ear.

As he lay in the darkness, exhaustion pressing on him but unable to sleep, Mifune dared to consider his own future for the first time in quite a while. Giriko was right, perhaps, that Mifune could no longer live independently of him. He didn't know for sure, but Giriko had the experience in these matters, and Mifune knew he himself was biased and didn't want to believe it.

But if that were the case, then he could no longer care properly for Angela, either. This new arrangement would only stave off the inevitable breakdown of his ability to be her guardian and bodyguard.

Worse, Angela would actually _watch_ him degrade into something lesser every day, watch him lose his mind to Giriko's torture. She would be right there beside him until he was nothing more than a shadow of himself, unable to do anything without direction, and terrified all the time of Giriko's wrath or disapproval.

If this went on the way Giriko intended, Mifune could no longer protect her from this, and that meant that Baba Yaga Castle was no longer safe for her.

So in that moment, he made one terrible, impossible decision.

He wouldn't go meekly into that future that Giriko had decided for him. When they got back, he would take Angela, and he would leave. He would find another place where Angela would be safe.

What would happen to him after that, he didn't know. But having made the decision he finally closed his eyes and felt his body relax and his mind quiet. He wasn't so far gone yet. He _could_ still act.

And he _would_ act. For Angela's sake.


End file.
